Go to the Light?
by n4trix
Summary: It's white, encompassing and terrifying. Is this it? NOTE: The genres aren't exactly reflective of the plot... give it a chance? I have no idea why I wrote this OR posted it... late nights suck. GSR


**Title: **Go to the Light?  
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No money was made from this story.  
**Spoilers: **Post _Way to Go_.  
**Rating:** T  
**A/N:** I don't know how to write a warning for this without giving the plot away. It's not exactly what you think, trust me.

----

White.

Fuzzy

Floating.

And most of all, clichéd.

I had seen those shows on The Discovery Channel, The Learning Channel, The Science Channel… the ones that explained the paranormal. They explained outer body experiences, strange visions and life after death. Countless people recanted their tales; some of survival and others of being left behind. After all, not all of their stories had happy endings.

Much like my own.

The scientist in me is confused. When a person dies, the heart stops pumping, therefore oxygen is prevented from reaching the brain, ceasing all autonomic functions and thought. If the brain cannot think, the brain should not be able to conjure up images of befuddled fluffiness.

Yet here I am.

I've been told that after death our souls linger in proximity to our physical bodies. I can believe that. I can't tell you how many times I've walked upon a fresh scene and felt the briskness in the air. The room could be full of people but suddenly I'd feel lonely and slightly anxious. The feelings were always fleeting at best, but not un-noticed.

I was never the only one to feel them. She'd feel them too. I guess that's why I can feel her here now.

----

It'd be easy for me to say "it wasn't supposed to happen this way." What else am I supposed to say? The scene was clear, there were officers posted at the entrance to the house… but no one could take into account the way fate works. Who knew lifting prints off a windowsill could set forth the motions to end my existence? Surely not the officers outside, quietly discussing UNLV baseball's recent playoff run. Not Greg, on his hands and knees scouring the bathroom vinyl for fibers. Not even Sara, standing in the front yard, questioning the young black woman about the body found she discovered slain on her living room floor. Not even I could guess.

My first clue that something was wrong was the sound of screeching tires and an engine revving from the corner of the street. Unfortunately, the house we currently occupied was only 40 yards from the corner, so the sedan was on top of us before anyone could yell in warning. But that's not to say there was no yelling. Oh was there yelling. And chaos.

I heard a "get down!" from Sara while the woman she was questioning let out a terrified cross between a yelp and a scream. Sara must have pushed her to the ground. One of the officers echoed Sara's command and unclipped his gun holster, freeing the weapon. In vain, of course… he was the first to go down as a barrage of bullets pelted the front yard. He never had a chance. And truth be told, neither did I.

The unfamiliar 'zing' of bullets filled the room as a tsunami of exit holes covered the wall on my right. The closer they got, the more it seemed like time slowed down. _Pop! K-thunk! Pop-pop! K-thunk-thunk!_ Drywall powder erupted from the surface of the wall as the holes encroached on my kneeling position. _Pop-pop-pop! _The window above me shattered as finally realized I needed to move and hit the deck. Too little, too late.

I had never been shot before. I guess there is a first time for everything.

The bullet ripped its way through the side of my vest and into my torso, leaving a scalding path of destruction as its momentum slowed and came to rest near my left kidney. The pain… I had never felt a pain like that in my life. It was abrupt and intense and shocking. And definitive.

The drive-by was over as suddenly as it started. I heard Greg scrape his way along the floor to where I lay wounded. I knew he was close when I heard his panicked breathing. "Grissom… Grissom! Are you ok?" His shaky hands carefully but urgently checked me over.

"No… shot, Greg… gah….." I hissed.

"Shit… shit! Oh shit, it's bad… Grissom it's bad." As if I didn't know. "Hey! HEY! We need some help in here!" he pleaded to anyone within earshot as he pressed down on my side, trying to slow the bleeding. I'm sure that if I had been looking at him, I would have seen the watery proof in his eyes – proof of exactly how bad this really was.

Something changed then. The pain I felt in my side shifted, it moved up past my stomach, past my lungs and into my heart. It was accompanied by something else, something seemingly more painful than the physical hurt of the gunshot wound. It felt like… terror. And it wasn't my own.

The strangled cry of my given name ripped into me much like the bullet did. Its path was detoured slightly – it went straight to my core, to my heart. I swear I could feel her footsteps as she pounded the ground to get inside the house. They thundered through my body as she hurried past the downed officer, past the other officer who was calling for backup, past the front door of the house and into the living room. I didn't need to see or hear her in order to know she was there, but the "oh god" gasp that escaped her lips made it that much more real.

"It's bad, Sara… God it's really bad. I can't slow the bleeding… is an ambulance on the way?"

I don't think she said anything. Or maybe she did, but I couldn't hear her. Things were getting muddled and it sounded like I was in an aquarium. Time and sound slowed down like a battery-depleted Walkman, only to speed up to catch up to the present. It would actually be comical… if I wasn't dieing.

The pressure Greg was creating with his hand increased as another body slid next to mine. My cold hand was warmed by hers. It felt nice… warm and comforting, like she was somehow transferring her life-force into me. "Sa-ra…" I choked out as I looked into her eyes.

"H-hey… hey, hey." She brushed my forehead and hair with her hand. "God, Gil…" she hiccupped, trying to prevent the sob that so desperately wanted to escape. "This… isn't good."

I groaned and struggled to swallow. The agony I heard in her voice made it extremely difficult to suppress my emotions. "…yeah… h-honey… …hurts…" I imagine Greg was feeling fairly uncomfortable by then. He was stuck between wanting to help me and wanting to leave us alone to face the inevitable together. But oddly enough, I wanted him there, needed him there. He has to be the one to be strong for her, to help her through this, to keep her safe and sane after my death.

"Where is that _fucking_ ambulance!" I heard him spit out as he took one hand off my side to wipe tears from his face.

I got pretty tired by then. Why does dieing do that? Shouldn't the body be pumped up on adrenaline? All I wanted to do was close my eyes, but I needed to maintain eye contact with her. She was my connection to the living, a place that was rapidly escaping my grasp.

"S-sara… Saraaa… love… so much. 'M sorry." I finally closed my eyes, breaking the link. The aquarium-like effect was back… I could hear her speaking to me, yelling at me, but nothing made sense. And even though it was supposed to be dark behind my closed lids, I felt the need to squint as it gradually became brighter, as everything around me faded, fuzzy and white.

"Damnit, Gil… don't you leave, not yet damnit!" She shook my body violently, trying to wake me from the sleep we both knew couldn't be prevented. "No no no no _no_, damnit, _NO!_ Stay with me, Gil, stay _here_!"

I opened my eyes lazily and knew, deep down, that this was the last time I'd get to see the woman I love. One lethargic tear made its way down my temple. In a last instance of clarity, my eyes bore deeply into hers as I tried to convey things I couldn't verbalize. "…love you."

The suppressed sob finally escaped her lips and her body began to shake as she cried. My eyes squinted shut once more as the fuzzy warmth began to cover me.

"I love you too," she said in a whispered cry.

Things were really muddled now. I felt Greg shake with emotion more than I heard him. I even thought I heard the distant sounds of an ambulance's siren. But it was too late. A faint _"I'm still not ready to say goodbye"_ was the last thing I heard and the last thing I felt was the distinct puncture on my soul as Sara's heart broke in two.

And then everything went black.

----

I never imagined that the afterlife would be so… sterile. While there was the strange but accurate feeling of death, there was also the intrusive feeling of _life_ right along with it. And what the hell is beeping? I can't see _anything_; it's too bright. Is this the tunnel that so many people talk about? Is this the so-called "overwhelming sense of peace" that is supposed to overcome you upon your final journey? I'm not sure, to be honest. Actually, to tell the truth, the afterlife feels a lot like Desert Palms.

"_I think-----be waking up. Go get-----tell them he's awake----"_

Waking up? I'm dead, how am I supposed to "wake up?"

"_Griss? Gil? …are you awake?"_

What the hell?

"…mmmmm?" Where'd that come from? The fuzziness started to fade and things became clearer. Groaning, "…ugh… wha?"

"Oh thank God… Gil, honey, if you can understand me, don't try to move. You're hooked up to some machines." Something touched my hand and squeezed. The natural thing to do was squeeze back.

"Sara?"

"Yeah….. yeah, it's me," she said in a voice much similar to the one I heard upon her arrival in Las Vegas.

I groaned and asked, "…ungh… I thought I was… dead. What happened?"

"Technically, you did. It's a long story… one I can tell you later." She squeezed my hand harder. _"I'm so glad you're okay…"_

As I slowly opened my eyes, I tried to remember exactly what happened but drew a blank except for one thing. "You… still weren't ready to say goodbye." She choked on a sob and simply nodded. "Good… me neither."

"Gil… I thought I lost you. I'm so glad you're okay…" brown met blue as she looked into my eyes, "I love you."

That will never _ever_ get old. "I love you, too."

Who needs an after-life when I have an after-_death_ like this?

**END**


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